Happiness
by Parmecia
Summary: Azzan reads the letter Nhiilaa wrote to him, and his thoughts on it. One shot.


_Author's Note: Yes, I'm fully aware that this is made of fail. I didn't just want to leave poor Azzan hangin' there all by his lonesome, so I decided to ruin his life even more. Hehehehe._

_--_

_Morning Star 16, 3E431_

_This is my last farewell to you, my friend. It is better that I leave this way, because if you gave me the chance to look back, I wouldn't leave. There are so many things that I wanted to tell you before I left, just to make it alright._

_Azzan, do me one last favor: for the love of Ysmir, forget me._

_You deserve so much more than what I ever could have given you. You deserve a wife and a family to come home to every night. I am too restless, too free, to ever be tied down like that. Besides, matrimony's far too… homely for me._

_I don't know what to tell you at this point to make everything alright. You want me to stay, and to be your wife, and that's the one thing that I know for a fact that I can not do. You would have me locked away, to be hidden from fresh air, from the moon and the stars. If the world were under your thumb, I would be stuck in Anvil for the rest of my days, forbidden to do what I love most, all because you fear for my safety._

_First and foremost, I have been your friend. You wanted to be something more, and that I could not do. If you truly loved me as you claimed, you would let me go and allow me to do as my heart desires, not as yours thinks what I should do. If you truly love me still, you would acknowledge our friendship and oblige with my final wish: find someone else. Love her as if you had never met me and allowed for me to cloud your judgment._

_Sincerely,_

_Nhiilaa_

_--_

It's ironic how a person can live their life in an attempt to please one person. All I ever wanted was her to be happy, and I thought I knew how to do that. Marriage, a house, a family even, and the lack of a need to have to work to survive. That was what I thought would make her happy. I thought that was what would make any female happy. That was what my father had almost literally beaten into me from day one: Domesticity was the key to a woman's happiness. Now that I think about it, it's no small wonder that my mother ran off with the first sailor headed back to Hammerfell. I guess I'm living proof that love is indeed blind. If I'd have paid any attention to what she was saying instead of those big blue eyes glittering enthusiastically as she said it, I would have spared myself a whole world of embarrassment. No, I had to do things my way, the way my father would have done them.

I wonder what my father would say now, to come home to see his almost-fully grown son sitting on the edge of his bed, blubbering over some Nord girl who scorned him one too many times. It'd probably be something like, "Azzan, I thought I raised a son, not some sniveling, pathetic wench of a daughter. Get your ass off of that bed and do something productive with your life!" and so on and so forth. Good ol' Roan, always there for his kid.

I can't help but think of what a better father I'd be to my own children than my father was to me. In my mental image of my future, she was always there, taking care of the kids after I'd get home from a long day at the guild. She'd greet me warmly and I'd have a hearty meal sitting on my table the moment I walk in the door. Lamb, usually. The good stuff, not like the stringy wolf meat my own father brought home because he was too lazy to hunt for healthy meat and waste precious arrows killing it. It went on like that for the most part, a peaceful life with a crackling fire, a delicate and dutiful wife, and wonderful children willing to take on the guild after I passed on.

It could still happen, but just not with her. It will never be with her. Without her, it's not worth it. My whole life's been centered on her for so long, that now, now that's she's gone for good this time, it's like a minotaur has gored me through the heart and I can't even feel it because I've got no heart left.

'Forget me.' Hah, like I could. She's not the kind of person that anyone could forget. To her own admittance, she's not even all that pretty. In fact, she's quite plain at first glance. But the way she talked and the way she walked… it was so different that any other Nord I've ever met. She had grace, and she was charming. She talked like a civilized human being, not just one of them beer-drinking, axe-swinging barbarians everyone talks about. When she talked… it was magic. I didn't care what the hell she was saying, but the way she said it, it was like everything else just melted away because the fire in her eyes seemed to light it ablaze. Everything she said was full of wit and intelligence, and I don't think she ever quite realized what a spellbinding effect she had on people. Her only flaw was that she was so damn dense. Most of the time she would say things, not knowing what I thought or felt when I knew that everyone else around us could tell, and it'd cut me like a knife. Her every word was so impassioned and so manipulative, but she never knew that she had that kind of power. I don't think she ever will.

Now that she's gone, I don't know what I'll do. Probably do what I've always done, and will always do: Watch the guild, assign people some random job here or there, and wait for her to come back. She's always come back. This time though, I'm not so sure she will. No one's ever defeated the Gray Prince.

So maybe I will honor her last wish for me. Maybe I will just forget her, find a wife and start a family. It may not be what she wanted for herself, but it's what I want. Perhaps it was finally time for me to stop living in my dreamland and for us to finally part ways. I've spent so long pining for her that I've hardly lived myself. Now, I suppose, it's time for my happiness to come first.

I owe her at least that much.

--

Ingar looked at a letter lying on the top of his desk. The seal was broken, the letter itself open. It read simply, '_Thanks for the flowers.' _He let out a sigh as he tucked it back into its envelope and shoved it into a drawer, along with a bottle of ink and a freshly used quill.

It was better this way.


End file.
